


On Azure Wings

by ivorytower



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivorytower/pseuds/ivorytower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Kael'thas Sunstrider's invasion of Silvermoon, Jaina Proudmoore travels to Quel'thalas to put her old friend to rest. Kalecgos, young scion of the Blue Dragonflight, mourns the loss of Anveena, Avatar of the Sunwell and his beloved. Lonely and intrigued by Jaina's power and intent, he asks to go with her to Theramore to observe.</p>
<p>Thrall and the Horde are pulling out of Outland and Garadar, and the Mag'har, including his grandmother, Geyah, are disappointed that he is not staying. One, however, is not: Garrosh Hellscream is ready to see the world his father died on, but he is not prepared for the truth behind Grom Hellscream's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Azure Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Doomhamster, who is awesome. <3

Jaina had only rarely had the opportunity to visit Quel’thalas, and this visit would likely be the last. She wandered the hallways of the Magister’s Terrace overlooking the Sunwell, and fought back both bile and tears: an army had come through here, from what she understood.

The Shattered Sun Offensive, assembled in haste with bonds forged in iron and blood, had brought forces through here, smashing through resistance in the form of captured Wretched, demon-tainted elves, and berserk arcane defenses, until the army had reached the architect of this disaster: Kael’thas Sunstrider.

_Why didn’t you come to me if you needed help?_ Jaina asked him silently, picking her way past torn curtains and burst pillows. _I would have helped you if you had only reached out to me._

In some ways, she knew why. The last time she and Kael had spoken, they had fought bitterly. Previous to that, they’d also fought, and before that…

_Before that you loved me,_ Jaina thought sadly. _You loved me so much you wanted to cage me to keep me safe and sound when I wanted to fly free. Perhaps another woman would have been honoured to be your mistress, but I am no one’s servant but my own. Still, just because our relationship ended doesn’t mean I stopped caring about his well-being. I would have listened._

The Alliance had abandoned the Sin’dorei. No matter how many excuses Varian made, no matter how many denials spilt from dwarven lips, the Blood Elves, as Kael had named them, had been betrayed by their allies. Dalaran had been used to detain and punish members of the Alliance without trial. A Grand Marshal had seen fit to punish a member of the Alliance without proof. A people had been used and abused, forced to work for a madman and a monster.

Jaina’s fists clenched in anger. _If there was something good about Illidan Stormrage, it sure as hell wasn’t present later on._ For lack of a better option, Kael had placed his faith in Illidan. Illidan, in turn, had used the Sin’dorei, first as fodder, then as test subjects, until most of them had fled, and the rest turned into warped demonic things.

Kael had remained loyal as long as he could. He’d offered his people for modification into demon hunters, resulting in madness and death before success. He’d assaulted Tempest Keep to turn it into his own personal sanctum. He--

_He captured an elemental made of pure goodness and light and sent it home to feed his people’s magic addiction._ She made a frustrated noise. _Another thing he never told me! I had no idea his people would be so dependent on magic. I could have done something!_

There was no tipping point from good to evil. Not for Kael, and not for so many. Each step, each tiny step, had taken something from the man that had been her best friend and her first lover, leaving something behind that was monstrous and nearly unrecognizable.

_And that’s why I’m here,_ she thought grimly as she made her ways through the torn and mangled halls, past the bodies marked for incineration, past the scorch marks and gouges, past the dreams shattered like so much glass, littered everywhere on the once-magnificent floors of the Magister’s Terrace.

The room that had been Kael’s final stand was a ruin. This had been his father’s antechamber, his retreat and his refuge after channeling the might of the Sunwell. It overlooked the wellspring of Quel’dorei magical might and here the magisters of the First Circle, the best and brightest mages, would join their powers together, intertwined to cast spells that had kept Quel’thalas’ eternal summer going, protected their people from demonic incursion, and fuelled the multitude of golems that had maintained the elven way of life.

Arthas’ rampage through Quel’thalas, ending with the pollution and destruction of the Sunwell had put paid to that, and it had seemed almost like the abomination that had been Kael’thas Sunstrider, Sun King, had come to finish the job. The Shattered Sun had stopped that, and now she was here to make sure it didn’t happen again.

The antechamber was guarded by a pair of soldiers, each bearing the sun-streaked blue, though one was a tall, broad eredar woman with a huge, double-headed pikestaff and the other was a slender elven mage with a sharp gaze and a smile that did not quite touch his eyes. Jaina nodded to each of them in turn.

“I’d like to go in,” she said, keeping her tone even and light. “Would you let me pass, please?”

"None may pass through this doorway," the eredar woman said, her voice deeper and more resonant than Jaina had expected. "The Prophet and the--" She glanced at her companion.

"The Matriarch will do," the elf said with a shrug. "Either way, no gawkers."

"I'm not--" Jaina bit down on her temper. "I'm not gawking. I'm here for a very specific purpose. I mean no disrespect."

"You and half a dozen others," the elf said, shrugging again. "Go talk to the old--"

The eredar woman cleared her throat.

"Prophet, and the Matriarch." He thumbed behind him. "They're having a confab by the Holy Sunwell."

"The which?"

"Talk to them," was all the elf would say.

"I could teleport you into the sea," Jaina muttered. "Or turn you into a rabbit."

"He does look like a rabbit," the eredar woman murmured. "But I would have to stop you."

"Wow," the elf said. "Thanks."

_Don't they know who I-- not Kalimdor. Right._ Jaina nodded. "Very well. I'll be back."

As one, they bowed their heads and, for lack of anything else to do, Jaina departed swiftly for the chamber of the Sunwell.

~ * ~

Not for the first time, Kalecgos, young scion of the Blue Dragonflight, wished that the Shattered Sun had not spared him. That, in his madness, he had been slain instead of purged of the demon that had possessed him in his time of heartbreak and weakness.

...when Kael'thas Sunstrider, more monster than man, had stolen Anveena from their home and turned her into a battery with which to summon Kil'jaeden the Deceiver to Azeroth. Anveena had not always been human. Once, she had been the Sunwell, and as its avatar, they had always feared that her destiny would ultimately be to return to that form.

He had seen her in the moments before. Her human shell had been dissolving rapidly, pale skin becoming golden power. The Naaru, M'uru, had been tortured until it had become a Dark Star, and its remains placed in the Sunwell. She had been drawn to it, and it to her.

He had cried his denial, but not had the wherewithal to shapeshift back to reach for her. Instead, in that large chamber, the bulk of his true draconic form had taken up much space and done approximately nothing to stem the flow from Anveena into the Sunwell. He remembered the look on her face when she had faded, reaching out to him as her fingertips turned into light.

_I love you, Kalecgos. Goodbye._

The words had seared themselves into his very soul, and he replayed them over and over as he wandered the Sunwell’s great chamber in his humanoid form, unable to bear his draconic form any longer. Besides, he attracted less notice as a slender, blue-haired half elf than he ever did as a dragon.

The Holy Sunwell shimmered, its golden surface surrounded by a series of stylized rays, as though a window to the sun in truth, rather than a receptacle of arcane magic and holy energy. Around it, numerous priests and priestesses of Belore, the Thalassian name for the sun, consulted and took notes, testing its waters for purity. At each alcove stood two members of the Shattered Sun, one blood elf, one eredar, clad in blue and gold, bearing weapons that were anything but ceremonial.

_They once fought as enemies, and now they stand as allies. Their bonds are forged from… convenience? Mutual hatred?_ He sighed as he paused at the far side of the room and touched one of the ornate decorations, rubbing fingers along the wrought gold. _I wish I could understand mortals better._

A small, low railing encircled the Well, and there was a break at the southernmost point, a scarlet carpet standing out amongst all the bronze and gold. Here, a channeler could stand at the very edge of the Sunwell and draw on its power, half-priest to the Sun God, half-sorcerer of flame and light. At the moment, two stood there, alike in purpose but different from one another in all ways possible.

The first was an elven woman with chestnut brown hair and amber eyes. Her armour was bulky, lending size and form to her not unimpressive physique. Once, Priestess Liadrin had been loyal to Belore and Kael’thas both, but now as the Matriarch of the Blood Knights, the new order of paladins that had drawn directly on M’uru’s power, she was on the forefront of change for the Sin’dorei. She was speaking to a very elderly eredar, dressed in robes of gold and white. His hair was long and silver-white, and though the eredar were long lived, perhaps even truly immortal as even elves or dragons weren’t, he seemed ancient and ageless at once. His eyes were white, and glowed from within, holy in and out. Affixed on his high forehead was a symbol representing his devotion to the Light and the Naaru. He was Prophet Velen, leader of the Eredar exiles.

As Kalecgos wandered the chamber, scraps of their conversation had reached his ears. Primarily, they had discussed the Holy Sunwell, M’uru, and Anveena, and this subject had made his heart ache, even as he’d listened as best he could. The sensation had been not unlike poking a wound to make sure it still hurt, and it did. They’d moved on to other topics after that, such as the cleansing of Quel’thalas from the Scourge taint, expanded far beyond what Anveena had managed, with holy energy battling with the necromantic malevolence of the Lich King. The poison the corrupted Sunwell had spread was being replaced by clean magic, and the elves, never particularly religious, were finding their object of veneration different from how they remembered it.

_Holy and arcane, intertwined,_ Kalecgos mused. _A new dawn for a people shattered by war. Anveena--_ His heart ached as he probed the sore spot, then continued the thought. _\--believed that they could be saved, that they were more than simply the desperate and the hungry._

Desperate and hungry they had been: starving for the magic to maintain their kingdom and feed their population, the Sin’dorei had raided every arcane cache they could, and then sought other sources of magic, including demons and the Naaru delivered to them from Outland by their Prince, Kael’thas Sunstrider. Here, in the chamber, were some of those who had perpetrated such acts of desperation: Rommath, Grand Magister of the Sin’dorei; Astalor Bloodsworn, who had overseen the extraction of power from M’uru personally; and Liadrin herself. Near to them was Regent-Lord Lor’themar Theron and Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing, watching, waiting, vigilant and protective. A little apart from them stood Voren’thal the Seer. Voren’thal and Rommath had both been Kael’thas’ lieutenants, and while Rommath had been sent to Quel’thalas and stayed there, Voren’thal had led his forces to Shattrath and surrendered to the Naaru, foreseeing the Naaru’s instrumentality in saving the Sin’dorei.

_I wonder if he had realized exactly how that would come about,_ Kalecgos wondered. _Seers are just as confusing as bronze dragons in that regard._

For his part, Velen had not come alone. Two of those that stood at his side were paladins, one man and one woman, both eredar. Their faces were concealed by gold, purple, and crystal helms, and each bore huge hammers with amethyst heads. With them was a draenei, and from his garb, he followed the shamanistic faith that the orcs of old had abandoned. His expression, somewhat hard to read behind wrinkles and unfamiliarity, seemed solemn but not concerned.

Kalecgos wandered from one alcove to the next, examining a wood carving of a phoenix curled around a sun. Its beak seemed to be embracing it, or perhaps, eating it. He frowned thoughtfully. _I wonder if this was created before or after the fall? If before, that's a remarkable amount of foresight, and if after, they--_

The guards, content to ignore Kalecgos and his wandering, stirred suddenly, drawing up to their full height. Kalecgos turned to see what the fuss was about: a human woman -- truly human, not a shapeshifted dragon -- was striding towards the Prophet and the Matriarch, her expression set stubborn and relentless, reminding Kalecgos of none so much as Tyri on a hunt.

Kalecgos stopped his circuit to observe this new arrival. She was a mage, that was immediately obvious. While anyone could wear enchanted clothing, the magical signature matched that of the woman wearing them, and to Kalecgos’s senses, the sorcery tasted of ice and arcane sparks, of salt and sea. It was familiar and welcome all at once. Power simmered behind bright blue eyes that reminded him of nothing so much as the scales of the dragons of Mazthoril.

It took him a moment, but he focused on her words:

“--and I would like to remove his body from the terrace and dispose of it properly,” she concluded. “I understand that you have serious security concerns, but I feel I am the most qualified individual to take on this task.”

“You would feel that way,” commented Rommath icily. “Kael’thas was our leader, we reserve the right to dispose of him as we see fit.”

“Which is why he’s sitting on a floor, practically rotting, while you stand around and _talk_ ,” the human woman fired back. “Right now, especially in this state, Kael’s body is a security concern. He’s already been brought back once, and it’s entirely possible that some less than scrupulous individual could reanimate him again, and again.”

“What precisely are you accusing me of?” Rommath asked, his smile sharp and ready for a bite.

“I don’t know, how many demons do you worship?” the human replied, and he recoiled slightly. “Because it was the demons that plagued him, the demons that brought him back, and the demons that infected him with fel blight.”

“Please, Lady Proudmoore,” Velen said, raising his hands soothingly. “I’m certain the Grand Magister is no less intent on seeing right done by the late Prince Kael’thas. Perhaps you can elaborate on your qualifications involving security.”

“Of course, Prophet.” The human woman smiled, filled with warmth and enthusiasm instead of venom. “My magical education was completed in Dalaran, which has since fallen to demonic incursion. In Dalaran, they had a series of containment chambers for dangerous arcane artifacts, often seized from infernal cults or rogue necromancers, though sometimes from fallen mages themselves. It is from them I drew inspiration for Theramore’s own vaults, the Safeward. I will be able to extract the fel crystals from Kael’s body and contain them so that they can be neither stolen nor used, effectively nullifying their power.”

“That would seem to solve only one of our problems,” Liadrin murmured thoughtfully. “Though an important one. There are divided opinions about what should be done with our former prince after that.”

“I’ve already stated, regardless of how he died, I will not see him used as spectacle,” Lor’themar snapped. “Our people have suffered enough.”

“Then let me mention the second thing that I’m highly qualified to do,” Lady Proudmoore said, pausing for emphasis. “Body disposal.”

“What an… odd thing to brag about,” one of the paladins said, her voice curious. “How does one qualify to perform body disposal?”

“Crusader--”

“Vindicator,” the eredar woman said. “Vindicator Yrel, and my partner, Maraad.”

“Of course, thank you, Vindicator Yrel,” Lady Proudmoore said with a smile. “I have been fighting the Scourge for some time, as well as the demons. You have surely seen the danger of burying the dead, and while burning them is the best option, the actual resources to do so are limited. Why waste wood that could be used for building homes? I developed a liquid substance that burns organic material to ash in seconds, harming no stone or dirt. It will not work on the fel crystals, but it will certainly work on Kael. I call it ash water.”

“Simply named,” Yrel replied with a smile. “But what of the sentiment behind it?”

The human woman paused, considering. “Kael was a friend, once. Someone I cared for. Someone I wish had come to me for help instead of to Illidan. I can’t change what happened, but I can at the very least make sure he rests with dignity as well as in peace.”

Yrel and Velen both nodded thoughtfully, while Maraad shrugged, uncomfortable. The wrinkles around the draenei’s mouth rearranged themselves into a smile.

“While I have little place to speak in the affairs of elves,” Velen began, “I do feel that peace and dignity are much deserved in times such as these. I believe Yrel and Nobundo agree with me. I can only advise my hosts to sincerely consider this offer.”

“I, for one, am interested in seeing exactly how this ash water works,” Astalor said, eyes alight with curiosity. “Especially its alternate uses.”

“I keep small quantities contained for personal use,” Lady Proudmoore said, her voice so sweet it made Kalecgos shudder with fear. “And the bulk of it is sent to the Argent Dawn. It isn’t available for common use.”

Astalor’s expression immediately soured. Lor’themar nodded slowly. “Then I feel the best option has been presented. Rommath, contact Kaleth and Ishana on guard duty, tell them to allow Lady Proudmoore to take Kael’thas’ body… and perhaps we can finally start putting all of this behind us.”

“Thank you, Lord Theron,” the human woman said, bowing her head just slightly, even as Rommath opened his palm, summoned a tiny flame, and spoke into it softly. “I have no doubt you’ll receive as much help as you need to rebuild Silvermoon.”

“Not from humans,” Halduron pointed out. “Not from the Alliance.”

“No,” Lady Proudmoore agreed. “I’m well aware you joined the Horde. “I provided translation spells for your diplomatic contacts.”

“I had wondered…” Lor’themar murmured. “So, it’s true, then. The rumours.”

“There are a lot of rumours,” Lady Proudmoore said coldly, and Kalecgos saw several of those within the room shiver. “I assure you, not _all_ of them are true. If you’ll excuse me.”

Just as she had entered, on wings of azure and ice, she left.

_A place like Dalaran… I never did get to see it before it was destroyed, and Silvermoon--_ He probed again, and found his thoughts still painful. _Holds no joy. I wonder…_ He would lose her if he hesitated. He hurried from his alcove after her, largely disregarded, though he did catch Rommath’s words as he left.

“ _Humans_. Let Jaina have her joy of another corpse.”

~ * ~

It was easier to find her way back to the terrace now that she knew the exact path to take, and Jaina’s stride was hurried, eager to complete her mission, self-imposed though it was. The meeting had gone better than she hoped, and she credited that entirely to the presence of the eredar.

_Rommath has always preferred being petty in private and complaining to sympathetic ears to direct confrontation,_ Jaina thought. _And no one wants to look like a child in front of strangers._

The eredar and blood elf guards -- Kaleth and Ishana -- bowed to her as one and parted, letting her go into the room. They had not, or so it seemed, entirely left Kael’s body to rot: preservation spells tingled at her senses, though they did little to alleviate the twisted, angry look on Kael’s face, frozen there in death. The robes he wore, once fine, had been torn to shreds, leaving only loose, hanging rags around his hips and wrists. His bare torso was grey-green and pale, the fel shards embedded into it flickering like guttering candles.

_That won’t do at all… but that’s what wards are for, and gloves._ Jaina circled around Kael’s body twice, tracing an increasingly complex set of runes. This was not mere teleportation, but meant to push through the wards she’d personally constructed, the spider’s web of alarms and protections meant to coil up tightly around anyone breaking in or out. _Or anything, for that matter._

“You can’t go in,” Jaina heard Ishana say. “Lady Proudmoore is working.”

“I know,” said a voice utterly unfamiliar to Jaina. “That’s what I want to see.”

Jaina looked up, frowning, and then blinked: she had seen this man in the Chamber of the Holy Sunwell. She had not thought much of him -- blue hair wasn’t that uncommon, not if you went to Dalaran and felt adventurous, at any rate -- and while Shano’dorei were extremely rare, he seemed comfortable with everyone ignoring him. Now, with a better and closer look, she could see his eyes were amethyst, and shadowed with pain, and while his clothing was beautiful and ornate, if not archaic, the sheer amount and layering of the blue silk, brown leather, and white linen indicated that he hadn’t so much gotten dressed as simply rolled in a closet and put on everything he could find.

“Excuse me,” Jaina said. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe so,” the half-elf replied, and his eyes brightened slightly. “My name is Kalecgos, I’m a dragon of the Blue Dragonflight. I saw you speaking to the other mortals in the… the Chamber.” His voice, already soft, faltered, and then strengthened. “You spoke of wards? Of Dalaran?”

_A dragon!_ Jaina peered at him, looking at his expression closely. _Yes, I see it, behind the eye-glow, and that would explain his clothing, and the hair…_ “Yes. I can assure you that mine are some of the best existing wards crafted by mortal hands. I would test them against any intruder.”

“May I? Test them, I mean,” Kalecgos said, and smiled. “It’s not that I doubt you, it’s that I’m… curious, and I never had the chance to visit Dalaran, or any other human city. I’d also like to know more about your magic.”

Jaina nodded slowly. “You’re welcome to come along. I have work to do, obviously.” She gestured to Kael’s body. “But I wouldn’t mind having an assistant, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, I’m used to assisting others.” The pair of Shattered Sun guards nodded to one another, and stepped aside, allowing Kalecgos inside the room. His gaze took in the state of the room, and then the figure lying still. “What a mess.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Jaina said, letting sadness creep into her voice. “A completely unnecessary mess. I’m just in the process of completing the teleportation spell. If you’ll just step… here.”

Kalecgos nodded, following her gesture. “I’m ready.”

“Excellent,” Jaina said. “Because we’re going right… now.” A final gesture finished the spell. For a full three seconds, the runes glowed bright purple before they disappeared.

Jaina prided herself on smooth and pleasant teleportation, and this was no different. It was simply more complicated than usual, weaving through the tiny pathway she'd left deliberately, like the jagged teeth of a key fitting into a lock. They arrived inside the Safeward and Jaina made no secret of her pleasure when Kalecgos gasped.

The physical space of Jaina's vault was roughly the size of the base of the tower and was not, to her regret, true extra-dimensional space. Instead, they had dug deeply, and reinforced the dirt with thick stone, each inch warded against leakage. The whole room was sealed. Only magic brought in fresh air, light, and warmth. Only mages and spirits could enter, and the latter only to sate their curiosity and go elsewhere. In the unlikely event of forced entry, it would collapse or, if Jaina was particularly pressed, detonate.

"Incredible," Kalecgos breathed. "Only the temple and shrines are so well warded. How long have they been here?"

Jaina considered. "Four years? Five? They have been a labour of love since the foundation of Theramore, but it hasn’t always been practical to work on them. The situation has become more urgent as the world pieces itself back together, and of course, affairs in Outland…”

“Mortals are amazing,” Kalecgos said. “I think we’ve had meetings that lasted longer than five years, and you… there was nothing here before, was there? We’d have heard about it, if there had been.”

“Correct,” Jaina said. She examined Kael’s corpse, and then snapped her fingers. The corpse disappeared, then appeared on the workbench. “Keep an eye on him, would you? I need to be properly attired for this.”

“You’re expecting him to move?” Kalecgos laughed softly as Jaina walked from the middle of the vault to a nearby alcove. “But he’s dead.”

“If I’ve learned anything, it’s never to turn your back on the body,” Jaina said quietly. She selected one of the hair thongs and tied her hair back, creating a bun at the base of her neck, then took a cloth covering and placed it over her hair, tucking it away. Then she plucked her lab coat from its hook and put it on, wrapping it around her robes and belting it tightly. Next came cloth gloves, one set tight, the other looser, pulled as far up her arms as they would go. Finally, she opened a brass case and took a pair of goggles from it, fastening them over her eyes. “Anything?”

“Still as caves,” Kalecgos promised, though he was frowning. “You said you’d fought the Scourge?”

“Yes,” Jaina replied as she crossed back over to her workbench. All of the cleaning and sanitizing had been done before she had gone to Silvermoon, so it was not difficult to find the first knife, and only slightly more difficult to push memories aside. _I said I was the best qualified person for this task, and I am._ “And I was researching the plague before that time.”

“The _Scourge_ plague?” Kalecgos repeated as Jaina began her first cut. The skin around the fel crystals was the brown-blue of a bruise, as though they had been shoved into Kael’s skin forcefully, and he could never, would never, heal. “I thought it took the human kingdoms by surprise?”

“It did and it didn’t,” Jaina said, cutting carefully. “The actual origin of the plague, and how deeply it worked, remained mysteries to us for some time after we’d learned of it… but the intent was never to keep it secret forever. We needed to _know_ about the plague… just too late to stop it, or to do anything other than dance to the Lich King’s tune.”

“You say, ‘we’...” Kalecgos studied her hands as she worked, digging deep past skin, fat, and muscle. Jaina frowned as she hit bone.

“Arthas and I were together. He was to be my escort, I was sent by Master Antonidas, Ocean cradle him eternal.” Jaina set aside the knife, and reached into her incision, feeling around. “Right down into the myocardium. I suppose it makes sense, he was dead before. This must have jumpstarted him.”

“If you say so,” Kalecgos said, shuddering. “Isn’t this usually a task for mortal healers?”

“Usually, yes,” Jaina agreed. “I started my studies purely in the realm of magical theory, and I never had any intention of becoming a doctor. I’m still not, beyond basic first aid and urging people to see a physician, but I found that considering the needs of the world at large, I was well-suited to study pathology.” Jaina picked up the knife again, and widened the incision. “You shouldn’t touch anything, but could you replace those snips in my hand? Drop them in, don’t touch the gloves.”

“As you command… but why pathology?” Kalecgos glanced over the metal tools and considered, finally selecting one and dropping it into her outstretched palm. “That’s… working with the dead?”

“The study of infection, pain, and death,” Jaina corrected, and set the snips against one of Kael’s ribs, then closed them. The sound of metal shearing through bone made Kalecgos shudder again. “Considering the effects of exposure to fel magic, the aftermath of the Scourge plague, and the damage done by magical radiation, I felt that I should learn more than just lab theory. If that means getting my hands dirty, so be it.”

“I can’t argue with the results,” Kalecgos said as Jaina continued to cut through Kael’s ribcage, prying the pieces away from the fel crystal. “But… if you were building this vault, when did you have time to study?”

“I had a grounding in both ward creation and laboratory work from my time in Dalaran,” Jaina replied, and set the snips down. “So to fill in my education, I just did some supplementary work at the Academy. Forceps. They look like tweezers with teeth.”

“I don’t know what either of those things are,” Kalecgos confessed. “But… this one?” He picked up an instrument that had small, gripping teeth on one end, though they sat as a V shape on the bench. “It has teeth.”

“Correct.” Jaina held her palm out again, and once they were in her hand, she squeezed them, demonstrating how the teeth came together. “Now, if I can just peel back…” Jaina dug into the dead flesh, pushing at it from the other side. With a sickly squelching sound, the largest fel crystal popped free. “Got it.”

“Academy? I thought Dalaran was destroyed, is there one elsewhere?” Kalecgos asked, his expression fascinated and disgusted at once. “I’ve only seen the dead as bones before.”

“The smell is what usually gets to people. Some claim you can cheat, but what if you need to smell something off… better to learn to endure it.” Jaina set her tools down and picked up the crystal. Briefly, it pulsed in her hand as she carried it to a glass container that flickered with magical runes. “And no. Well, technically yes, but I have no real interest in studying in Stormwind. I’m speaking of the magical Academy I founded here in Theramore once we’d been established for two years. There were too many… problems to think of doing it first.”

“You founded a _school_?!” Kalecgos exclaimed, even as he kept an eye on the corpse, clearly remembering her words. “What else did you do?”

“I located the ley nexus in this location as the most powerful non-occupied one in Kalimdor,” Jaina said, returning to Kael’s body. She took up her knife again and began to cut the second-largest shard free. “I’d bet this is lodged in his lung, but where is the third one attached to…” _Liver? Or kidney? No, kidney is too far back. Stomach possibly._ “I dredged up more land to make Theramore large enough to build on, though all subsequent expansion is by necessity into the Marsh. I designed and built Theramore on top of a protection rune, capped by this tower, which I also designed myself. I tied all the wards into the ley nexus, not wholly different from how the Sunwell provided for Quel’thalas, but on a significantly smaller scale.”

Kalecgos shook his head in wonder, and more than a little disbelief. “If anyone claims mortals aren’t good for much, I’ll tell them about you. When did you eat? Or _sleep_?”

“A problem I’ve been trying to solve for ages,” Jaina murmured as she worked. Kalecgos laughed, catching the joke. “I just haven’t found a moral way of embracing lichdom.”


End file.
